those late night conversations
by fetishfuels
Summary: He realizes that Kise is loud, but he doesn't mind it. He realizes Kise is not as perfect as he seems, but he's known that for a long time now, and he wants to get to know the other parts of Kise that aren't so flawless. He realizes that he's crying, too.


It's a quarter to three, and all the good TV shows have ended. They were watching this really funny sitcom a while ago, but now something painfully boring is on, and neither of their attention spans can handle it at the moment.

After some mindless channel surfing, they found themselves sitting through a softcore porno. They were reminded of a certain perverted prodigy, and they spent a good portion of the film just commentating and snickering. Eventually, they agreed to switch it off in case Kuroko's mother woke up.

A few soda cans litter the living room floor, where they have laid down their mattresses, gathering all the blankets and pillows they could find. It was a rather cozy arrangement, yet neither of them could sleep.

Kuroko's hands had somehow gravitated to the book he's been reading in class. As he flips through the pages, it progressively becomes this wonderful distraction that threatens to hold him captive for the rest of the night.

Kise, on the other hand, is sprawled out on his back, staring up at the ceiling with aimless eyes. When he speaks, Kuroko remains plugged into the novel, but his ears are open.

"Kurokocchi, what do you think happens to us when we die?"

He blinks. Now that's a conversation he never thought they'd plunge into, but he's not too surprised. When they're alone, just the two of them, they engage in all sorts of topics. The trivial and the philosophical, and Kuroko can't help but bask in them.

"I don't know," he slips a piece of paper into the place where he stops. "But why is such a thing on your mind, Kise-kun?"

Kise laughs at Kuroko's sagely voice that's tinted with worry. He probably shouldn't have sounded so serious.

"Ah, it's nothing, I was just curious about what you think on the matter."

Their eyes meet briefly, before Kuroko turns his gaze back to his book. He didn't want Kise to know that he was staring. Sometimes, Kuroko can't help it. It's hard not to. It's hard not to be captivated and inquiring.

"Well…" Kuroko begins, his voice drifting off as his mind delves into the subject more deeply.

"I don't think there's a total _end_, if that's what you mean." He says after a long stretch of silence. "I think there's more to it than just…than just darkness and stagnation."

Kise smiles a tricky smile, one that would be a challenge to decipher. He looks a little pensive, a little happy, a little sad. A lot of little things called emotions accentuate his bright features. Kuroko is staring again.

"I want to believe that, too."

More silence fills the room with anxiety-ridden butterflies, all originating from both their stomachs. It's not exactly tense, but it's still a pronounced kind of disquiet.

Kuroko puts the book down and Kise closes his eyes, that enigmatic smile still on his face.

"What do you believe?"

There's no answer, but Kuroko knows that Kise doesn't fall asleep that quickly. He moves closer.

His fingertips brush along Kise's forehead, until he's cupping his cheek. Kise still doesn't say anything, but he visibly stiffens, releasing a soft shudder. Kuroko's voice is gentle and soothing as always.

"Are you afraid, Kise-kun?"

Suddenly, it felt like it was just the two of them in all of existence, and silence rasped on more loudly than ever before.

Kuroko falters when he feels something wet trickling down Kise's cheek, so warm and unblemished. He sees the tears as they flow, slowly and without any fruition. And now he's the one speechless, and Kise speaks up.

"Maybe—maybe I am. Maybe there's nothing, nothing beyond—!" he gasps, grasping the hand that was sweetly caressing him. He clutches onto it like it's all he has in the world.

"I-I want to live forever, Kurokocchi. I want to have kids someday—don't you?!—a-and I want to see them grow, and I want to see their kids, and their kids' kids. I want to do the impossible; the everything and above!"

Kuroko listens and lets the sobs come alive without interruption. He doesn't even care if his parents wake up at this point. Kise is holding onto him, Kise is using him as an anchor, and he doesn't have the heart to let him sink.

"I just—ahh, I just want to be limitless! I-I can't stand the thought of being—of being no…more…"

As Kise starts to calm down, Kuroko realizes something.

He realizes that Kise is loud, but he doesn't mind it. He realizes Kise is not as perfect as he seems, but he's known that for a long time now, and he wants to get to know the other parts of Kise that aren't so flawless.

He realizes that he's crying, too.

And once he does, Kise finally opens his eyes, those terribly entrancing eyes, and they both look at each other, Kuroko hovering above him. A few droplets escape from Kuroko and land onto Kise's head, and now they're just laughing in between sobs. They don't know if they're laughing out of hysteria or sleepiness, but they can't seem to control it.

Their quiet laughter engulfs the room, and surprisingly, Kuroko's parents still haven't stirred.

"Kise-kun…" Kuroko sighs heavily, trying to catch his breath, smiling at the idiot who caused all this. Kise just continues to giggle, looking beautiful even if he's an utter mess.

On impulse, Kuroko leans down to press his lips against Kise's, just to taste. Just to see if that would cease his chortling. Like magic, Kise was struck soundless with just a simple touch. All the tears vanished, unable to withstand the heat that was rushing to his pretty face. He staggers upward to a sitting position, though gravity is trying to do away with him.

"Ku-Kurokocchi…"

"It's alright."

Wrapping an arm around Kise, he pulls him forward and—hesitates just for a second—kisses him. Not just a friendly peck, either. Not just an experiment. It's remarkably raw and passionate—granted, it's sloppy, but it's secure. It's certain, it's sure. Kise responds steadily with no protest and moans into his mouth, arching his body so that they could be angled better and more comfortably.

It's a surreal kind of feeling, kissing your best friend in the wee hours of the night, but it's a powerful one that casts the most tantalizing of sensations.

He almost forgets what he was crying about, almost.

When they eventually settle into the pile of pillows and blankets, nestling in each other's arms, Kuroko alleviates his worries completely by whispering. Whispering into his hair, as he strokes Kise's back with a tenderness that could break the most wildest of dogs.

"Kise-kun was afraid that nothing would come after death, or that he would miss out on things afterwards, but…that's why we must live on, and live in the present. In the now.

I believe that if you want to do something, to experience something, then do so. _Now._ Without any fear, without wondering if you should wait for the future. Because the future doesn't wait, it happens.

You are already limitless, Kise-kun."

Kise wills himself not to cry again, because he doesn't need to. Because he's fine, he's with Kuroko, he's got a lifetime. He's renewed with excitement instead of the apprehension that was strangling him earlier. He's got Kuroko to thank for that.

"The things that we don't know, the shadowy parts of our lives and our existence that are still indefinite, they're not so scary."

"Yeah, you're right." Kise clings tighter, and Kuroko's grip is just as strong. "Everything comes to light eventually, and when it does, it'll be okay. I won't be alone."

"I won't let you be."


End file.
